


my love, your blood

by purple_peppermint



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Actual Phantom Thief AU, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Confessions, Injury, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, akechi falls in love, akira gives an extremely vague confession, i hope you guys can pick it up, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 22:55:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11519217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_peppermint/pseuds/purple_peppermint
Summary: in which akira is the world’s most wanted thief and akechi decides that thieves were not good for his health. Or his heart.





	my love, your blood

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys i wrote this at 1am instead of sleeping or doing my assignments but you know what, anything for these two. this is my first contribution to this fandom and i hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> (i did my best to proof-read this but please excuse any grammar or spelling mistakes.)

There was someone in his guest room and by the sounds of it, they had probably broken in through the window.

Akechi slowly crept out of his room, side-stepping his way down the hall, keeping his back against the solid the surface at all times. He squinted in the dim light.

The clock on the wall read 3:57am.

Akechi let out a quiet sigh. He had been home only for about two hours, gotten to sleep for one hour and now someone had crashed through his window even though he lived on the _fifth_ floor of the apartment building.

Somewhere along the way, Akechi had picked up a baseball bat he had no memory of owning. He straightened up and pushed the door to the guest room open. He had fully expected to see some burglar rummaging through his draws but instead—

“Hello detective.”

The voice was pained and strained, but not unfamiliar.

He dropped the bat.

“Sorry about the mess.”

Akechi could only observe the damage done to his guest room as he stood there, lost for words. The window was completely destroyed, pieces of shattered glassed covered the room, glistening in the pale moonlight. His carpet was _ruined_ , covered in dark spots that Akechi could only guess it to be blood.

“W-what are you doing here?” He finally said, although one look at the man in front of him was enough to answer the question.

The world’s most wanted thief, Joker, was stood in his guest room leaning heavily against the wall with his hands desperately pressed against his side. The blood was pooling on the floor around him. Akechi knelt down beside him to examine the wound. It didn’t look like anything he would be qualified to touch. However, he needed to minimise the blood loss while he could. He grabbed the nearest piece of cloth he could find, which happened to be the bed sheets of the spare bed in the room, and pulled the sheets off.

Joker was on the floor by then, slumped against the wall. Akechi had to physically hold him in place to stop him from sliding all the way down. His head fell against Akechi’s shoulder and Akechi could feel his breath against his neck. The smell of blood filled his nose and he grimaced.

He pressed the sheets against the wound and as he reached for his phone, Joker grabbed his arm. His grip was weak and trembling, but Akechi would feel the nails digging into his skin.

“I c-can’t go to the hospital,” he wheezed.

Akechi frowned. _Of course._

“Then how—”

“Call my doctor,” the thief whispered, barely audible.

“Number,” Akechi demanded. He could ask questions later but he needed to get the number before Joker passed out, which could be any minute now.

Joker sucked in a sharp breath, his voice so soft now that Akechi had to lean in. With his face inches from the other, he could see, even behind the mask, the beads of cold sweat rolling down the side of Joker’s face, and although the room was dimly lit, with the only source of light coming from the moon shining through the window, Akechi could see how pale the other was.

He dialled as fast as he could and pressed the phone against his ear. To his immense surprise, the doctor picked up after only three rings.

A female voice sounded from the other side.

“Akira, I told you that not all of us can survive on three hours of sleep. It shouldn’t even be _possible_ to—”

“He’s been stabbed and is currently losing a lot of blood in my apartment,” Akechi said, wasting no time with introductions. He just hoped that the doctor trusted him enough to come.

There was a short pause, and then,

“I don’t want to take chances on my client’s life. Where are you,” she said, although the distrust in her voice was clear.

Akechi let out a sigh of relief and quickly told her the address.

“I’ll be there in ten,” she said and hung up before he could say anything else.

 

 

Ten minutes felt like a long time when there was someone in your room who was practically bleeding his life out.

Joker was curled up on the floor with his eyes squeezed shut, and from the stiffness of his shoulders, he was still awake. The bedsheet pressed against his side was soaked completely, but the bleeding had somewhat stopped. Akechi hoped that it wasn’t because there was no more blood left to lose.

The room was quiet, the only sounds being Joker’s laboured breathing and the occasional honking of car horns outside. And then the knock.

 

 

Akira’s doctor was a young woman, possible only a few years older than Akechi, dressed in a short black dress with a white lab coat thrown hastily over the top.

“Where is he,” she demanded.

 

 

Akechi watched the doctor stitch Joker ( _Akira_ ) up. He noticed that she purposefully did not give him anything to relief the pain as she cleaned the wound. Probably because her made drive ten minutes to a stranger’s house at four something in the morning.

“Friends with the _detective_ now, are we?” He heard her mutter, although there was no venom in her voice.

“Thank you,” Akira whispered. The pain must have eased slightly. So the doctor _did_ give him something. Perhaps an injection.

She huffed out a quiet laugh. “You owe me _big_ this time, Akira. You better prepare for _hell_  next week.”

There was a weak chuckle.

“Yes ma’am.”

 

 

When the doctor was finished, she got up and handed Akechi what seemed to be a first-aid kit.

“You’re going to have to stay up and check on him,” she instructed.

Akechi watched her leave before looking back at his guest room and wondering how he ended up like this.

 

 

Akira had fallen asleep by the time Akechi came back into the room.

He was in the same position they had left him in, half sprawled out on the floor in a mass of bloodied bedsheets and bandages. His mask was off centred on his face but Akechi didn’t touch it. He figured that at this point, butchering the thief’s trust was not going to do him any favours.

 

 

“Why did you help me?”

Akira’s voice jolted him awake. Akechi hadn’t even realised that he had fallen asleep.

_Why?_

“I don’t think you should be talking right now,” Akechi said. Now that the thief was in no danger of dying, he had the time to collect his thoughts. and he wasn’t sure why he helped him either.

“There are a lot of things I shouldn’t be doing right now,” he could hear the smirk in the other’s tone. “Though I suppose if you really wanted me dead, you would have shot me in the heist two months ago.”

They both fell silent after that. Akira because he was probably waiting for answer and Akechi because. Because Akechi _didn’t_ know why he helped. Because Akechi had spent the last eleven months chasing after a thief that _really_ lived up to the title of ‘the phantom thief’, and when he was _right_ in front of him, injured and defenceless, Akechi didn’t think of anything else but to help him.

Akechi opened his mouth.

“Arresting you when you are in such a state would hardly be fair,” Akechi bit out. “Besides, _you_ were the one who crashed through my window.”

There was a moment of silence and then Akira lets out a mirthless chuckle.

“Why are you pretending that I’m worth more to you alive than an arrest record next to your name?”

There was something about the way Akira said those words, and something about the words themselves. They were filled with contempt. _Pity._ Akechi felt his temper flare.

“ _You_ —”

“But I suppose people in your profession prefer a fair game over an easy victory,” Akira continued, cutting Akechi off.

Akechi narrowed his eyes, glaring pointedly at the man on the other side of the room. He had managed to push himself up into a sitting position, with his back against the wall. His hand was still pressed against his side, as if to make sure that the stitches wouldn’t pop out.

“Is this a _game_ to you?” Akechi snapped, his voice raising involuntarily. Akira winced at the volume, and Akechi lowered his voice, although it did nothing to hide his annoyance.

“Is this what you think of this? A game?”

Akira raised his eyebrows, giving Akechi one of his infuriating smirks.

“ _Isn’t_ it?”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Aren’t you?”

Akechi didn’t answer to that, not trusting himself to answer to a question like that.

“A detective’s sole interest is to uncover the truth. There is nothing more frustrating to a detective than a mystery they cannot unravel,” Akira said when Akechi stayed silent. “However, that is also what makes such mysteries appealing.”

“You seem awfully confident in yourself,” Akechi scoffed. But Akira hadn’t been far off from the truth.

“You haven’t caught me yet, have you?”

“You are injured and in _my_ apartment. Why don’t you take your mask off and we can end the game peacefully.”

Akira let out a laugh of disbelief.

“Would you be satisfied with an ending like that, detective?”

 _No,_ Akechi thought, _no I wouldn’t_. But he wasn’t about to let Akira win.

“I know your real name,” Akechi threatened. He watched Akira open his mouth to protest but cut him off as he continued. “And I’m covered in your blood, _Akira_. I can find out who you are.”

“Blood analysis can only reveal so much,” Akira commented simply. The pain was all but gone from his voice, although there were still traces of it left on his face. As far as Akechi could tell, what with the mask and everything.

“What happened?” Akechi said, finally asking the question he had been wondering about, motioning to his side. “And the Phantom Thief has his own _doctor_ who doesn’t seem to care that he is, in fact, the most wanted thief in all of Japan.”

“The _world_ ,” Akira corrected him, crossing his arms and pouting like a child. “You can’t discredit me like that, detective. It isn’t not easy to move around when most people are out to get you, what with the amount of money the authorities have put above my head. And as for my doctor, I guess the easiest way to explain that would be that we are friends. With benefits.”

Before Akechi could make a remark about how unbelievably _ordinary_ the thief’s life seemed to be, Akira was on his feet, standing in front of the window.

Alarm shot through Akechi. He hadn’t thought about what he would do after Akira left. He thought he would have at least until sunrise to figure something out but it didn’t seem Akira planned on staying any longer.

“What are you—” Akechi started. He was cut off when Akira turned around, all the words died away on his lips. His eyes widened at the sight in before him.

Akira was in front of the window, his dark attire, a tailcoat that did _nothing_ to hide the slender curves of his waist, was outlined with a thin silver lining. The dim moonlight illuminated his face, without the mask, allowing Akechi to _see_ him for the first time.

His dark, unkempt hair was a stark contrast against the pale skin that seemed to glow in the soft light. His grey eyes flashed silver as he blinked, and his eyelashes were long enough to cast shadows on his cheek.

He was—

He was _beautiful_.

“We are but simple creatures, looking for something, anything, to stimulate the senses,” Akira said, resuming his monologue, “And likewise, for a thief, the most appealing treasure of all is the treasure that is the most _difficult_ to steal.”

And then he _winked_.

And then he was gone.

 

 

“Rough night?” Sae asked the next morning, almost before Akechi even entered the office. The smell of coffee lingered in the air, reminding Akechi that he badly needed a cup. Or two.

Akechi sighed and massaged his temples. “You can’t even _begin_ to imagine.”

Sae gave him a sympathetic pat on the back before leaving the room.

After Akira had _vanished_ last night—no, this _morning_ —Akechi had taken one look at the clock and made a beeline for his bed. However, instead of falling asleep as he would have hoped, he spent the rest of the morning trying _not_ to think about a certain thief.

“Maybe it was a dream,” Akechi muttered under his breath as he took a seat at his desk. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and drew in a deep breath.

“A dream,” he repeated, louder this time. Maybe if he said it enough times, he would eventually come to believe it. But every time he closed his eyes, his mind went back to Akira. The mischievous spark in his grey eyes and the confident smirk that tugged at his lips.

_God._

Akechi let out another exasperated sigh, this time, allowing his groan to resonate across the room.

Phantom thieves were not good for his health.

 _Or_ his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!


End file.
